


Benedict Cumberbatch and the Bodyguard

by charlottesweb



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottesweb/pseuds/charlottesweb





	1. Chapter 1

I thought that once Ben drifted out of my life, that I would never see him again. I was wrong. Now, before everyone gets all excited, let me give you a little background as to what led up to me crossing his path once more. Well, we all know what Ben’s been up to, however my life journey took a very different turn. I did the whole college thing, majored in music and history, realized I couldn’t get a decent job, then I proceeded on to Grad School where I obtained an MBA. I hated my employment options, so I became a bodyguard.

I started out as a security lackey at the theatre where my mom works. It was basic stuff, man the door, make sure crazed fans don’t get back stage, get coffee, man the door backstage, get coffee. It became this never-ending cycle until I went back to school once more and got my guard card and permit to carry a gun. Some of you may recall that I was a victim of an armed robbery. Well, just because I could carry a gun, didn’t mean my PTSD diminished, however my training in stress management gave me the tools to get through it. It turns out that being paranoid and watchful of one’s surroundings comes in handy when scanning crowds for potential nut jobs.

I didn’t want to work at the theatre for the rest of my life, so I joined up with a temp agency. My break occurred on my second assignment and I was hired after about six months. I guess I’m still young enough to be naïve, because I truly thought I was going to advance and become a full-fledged body guard. Being a woman, I knew it would be difficult, however after a few weeks it became apparent that I hired to do the grunt jobs, getting coffee, working crowd control in the venues without shade, backstage parties. I’ve been shoved, puked on and on one occasion almost set on fire.

I drifted through each job, becoming more invisible with each, “Hey, security get over here and clean this up, keep those girls out, get coffee…”

The last straw came when someone stole my security jacket. I had to pay for it myself and when the boss called me into his office I was certain I would soon be walking down the hall of shame with my last paycheck in hand and my bankers box packed, except I didn’t have a box. I knocked on the boss’s door, dreading his next words.

He beckoned me in, then fixed me with a stare. I stared back. “Well, Anderson I supposed you’re wondering why I called you in.”

_So, I could lower the whole I.Q. of the whole team?_ “It’s because I lost my jacket sir.”

He laughed. It was a chilling sound that grated on my nerves, like a cement mixer grinding away. “As usual, you got it wrong, Anderson. The jacket will come out of your pay. There’s a job that’s come our way and I thought you’d be the perfect candidate.”

_Great, what now, cleaning up elephant shit with a toy shovel?_ “Sir?”

“It’s for a film company, you’d be hob knobbing with the stars. There’s only one drawback.”

_Jesus, here it comes, they’re filming O Calcutta on location in the summer, making a documentary about animal poaching in Africa, a movie about cannibalism, cheerleaders, snakes, cock fighting, …_

“Anderson, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine, you will have to stay with the overseas firm for a year, but the pay is good and it’s in London.”

_London…_

**Three weeks later.**

Once again, I found myself on a plane to London, except this time things were different. I’m different. I’ve gained a little weight, not too much, but still, and I’ve let my hair go back to its natural color—dishwater blond. I hate that term, dishwater, so let’s say dark blonde, or whatever, who cares? The security firm meets me at the airport. I’m driven to the place I will stay and after a brief introduction to my roommates, I sit on the edge of a twin bed—my bed, feeling as lonely as John Watson before he met Sherlock. Except there’s no Northumberland fusiliers mug, no hope of Sherlock, just a gun—my gun. I’ve arrived at my boulevard of broken dreams. Determined not to feel sorry for myself, I calculate the approximate amount of my first check and smile. I’m going to save up for a motorcycle, yes, I have my M1 license, the Hot Toys 1/6 figure of Doctor Strange, all the episodes of the old Star Trek, The Fifth Element, … I smile, becoming lost in nerd land. Then my phone rings. It’s my mom, wanting to make sure I’ve arrived safely. After I end the call, I feel lonelier than ever. Why doesn’t her voice sound that sweet at home?

I report to work the next day, ready for anything, or so I thought. A grim looking man stood in front of us. “We’ve called in extra security because one of the actors is being stalked by some nut job. He has his own personal body guard, but we thought it prudent to keep eyes on him at all times. I listened while he briefed our team. We were to assist in crowd control, and to keep an eye on the actor’s trailers.

“Anderson?”

I stepped forward. “Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to need you to get…”

Though I knew I shouldn’t do it, I answered for him, “get coffee, right?”

His ears flushed. “So, you’re clairvoyant too, Anderson?”

I cringed. _Anderson, why does my last name have to be Anderson?_ “Sorry, sir.”

He nodded and by this time everyone was staring at us. “That’s better, we don’t need a smart ass. This actor has received some serious threats and I expect everyone to be on their toes, no matter how big or small the assignment, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” we all answered in unison.

“Anderson, you’re on crowd control, but first get us some coffee.”

They all laughed and I stalked away. _Bastards, I hate coffee._

One of our team, caught up to me. “Wow, that was rough.”

I shrugged. “Whatever, who’s the hot house orchid we’re watching out for?”

“Umm, some guy with a really weird last name. Ben Cucumber…”

I felt sick. “Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

_Oh shit, he can’t see me like this. I look fat, old—sad. What am I going to do?_

“Hey, are you alright?”

I nodded. “Sure, let’s go find the coffee.”

 


	2. Visible

I had managed to avoid Ben by taking the odd shifts no one else wanted. My luck would soon run out, due to the fact that one of my colleagues had ingested way too much stout. He showed up green in the face and spewing out more vomit, than I thought a human could spew.

“Anderson, I need you to do a double.”

I nodded, then looked around. All seemed quiet, other the faint noise of retching in the background. Fog billowed around me, obscuring my vision. _Damn, I’m cold._ I shivered, then walked the perimeter with another colleague.

“Damn, that was brutal seeing Howell puking up his guts.”

I nodded, anxious to change the subject, lest I start retching myself.

“Hey, Anderson, you’ve never been on this shift. Well, be prepared for a treat. Usually when it’s this cold, Ben brings us coffee and tea. You know for a hot house orchid, he’s really is a nice guy.”

I froze in my tracks. Who could fail to recognize that low dulcet toned voice?

“Good morning, I’ve got tea and coffee for all.”

The team went forward in shifts. I ignored the rush. Maybe if I remained still, no one would notice me. God, knows it worked in high school. Memories of jammed hallways, jostled at my current reality, until I finally succumbed to the past. I looked at kids from my high school days, they swirled past me in slow motion—the jocks and cheerleaders laughing, not seeing that their sense of entitlement would be rejected in the real world, the 4.0’s knowing that someday the fragile high school balance of power would shift to them, the nerds, the band animals, the tormented misfits all had their place in the school’s macrocosm, all except the invisibles. The invisibles, who drifted through the halls like specters, knowing that any action, or reaction would go unnoticed— unacknowledged. They were and are the blank squares in every high school annual, the lost ones, whom every reunion committee seeks to reach, but can’t remember—you know what’s her name.

“Excuse me, would you like a coffee or tea?”

Damn, apparently my invisible cloak had screwed me over, just when I needed it the most.  I turned and looked into those luminous green eyes—eyes that could see the lost ones. He cocked his head to one side. “Charlotte? Charlotte Anderson?”

I tapped my earpiece, attempting not to scream when it whined, screeched in my ear. “I’m sorry, there’s an emergency in hospitality….” _My façade is crumbling. He can see me._

He laughed. “Charlotte, you were always clowning around. An emergency in hospitality indeed. What? Did someone attempt to make off with the sugar? Come here and give me a hug.”

I shook my head and whispered, “I can’t. If the head of the team thought I knew you, I would be fired.” Now this wasn’t the total truth, okay it was a bold-faced lie. Ben wasn’t family or a close friend, he was an acquaintance. _Acquaintance, a perfect description for a lost one._

“Anderson, is there a problem over here?”

I shook my head. “No, sir, Mr. Cumberbatch, was just offering me coffee or tea, or er something.”

The head of the team nodded, but kept watching us. Ben smiled at him, then at me, handing me a lukewarm cup. His eyes held mine, then he whispered, “I remember that you prefer tea.”

I took the cup, then he left. _Damn, he remembered. Then how come he never kept in touch? Charlotte, stop it, don’t be like Scarlett O’Hare, mooning after something that you can’t have. He’s busy and world famous, people like him don’t have time for the lost ones._ I took a sip of my tea and grimaced, when the tepid liquid hit my lips. Its warmth had vanished, consumed by the morning chill.

By the time, my shift ended I was exhausted. I went back to my small room and collapsed on the bed.  A few hours later, I woke up got a shower and attempted to get more sleep. After a bout of tossing and turning, I knew it was no use. Feeling hungry and restless, I decided to take my motorcycle out and go for a drive. I know it sounds stressful to ride around London on a motorcycle, but it’s quite relaxing. Sights and sounds flew around me while I zoomed in and out of traffic, my shoulders felt fluid and I reveled in the sensations of my heightened senses. I stopped to get something to eat and had just finished my pasta, when I felt my phone vibrate against my hip.

**Hello?**

**Anderson, get in here. There’s been another threat against Mr. Cumberbatch’s life. He’s asking that you be on his special detail. Anderson, is there something you’re not telling me? Because he seems to think you’re going to get fired.**

**Well, sir, I met him once before and…**

**Yeah, he told me the circumstances. You should have come to me sooner. Oh, and next time you tell a client you’re going to get fired read the employee manual first. I don’t like being side swiped. Now, get in here.**

I pressed the end button and sighed. _Shit, I’m on the radar._

I raced back to the set, parked my bike and prepared to be visible. Fans were being herded away from the site in a more aggressive way than usual. _It must be bad, poor Ben._

I reported to my station and waited at attention until my team leader came over. “Anderson, I’ve already told the client that I’m the one who picks assignments and that I will take his request into consideration. However, after reviewing your record, I noticed that you scored pretty damned high on the analytical skills test. Anyway, don’t think you’re getting special treatment because the client asked for you. In other words, this isn’t The Bodyguard, no heroics. Just do your job and analyze the data you’re given about the case. Oh, and Anderson don’t blow this, or you’ll be on crowd control until you start collecting your pension.”

_Wow, no pressure there._ “Yes, sir.”


	3. An Invisible Army

**_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,_** ** _  
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.  
Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste;_** ****  
_Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste._  
_And therefore is Love said to be a child,_  
_Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. — Shakespeare_

_**Benedict, I know who you are, you are cupid and have thus set out to break my heart. Know this, I will once and for all put an end to the torment you’ve inflicted over the centuries. It ends here and now—Benedict, or should I say cupid.** _

_I read and re-read the letter. It did have a point, Benedict has indeed broken many hearts. I looked over at him, while he conversed with his bodyguard and a member of my team. Sensing, my gaze he looked over at me and smiled._ _An angelic smile indeed._ _I sighed, then picked up the next letter.  It began with the same Shakespearean quote, then continued._

_**Benedict, quit giving interviews, quit flaunting your power in front of the press. Do you think you can escape your fate? I know your every move. You were at the Postcard Tea Shop, buying tea and coffee. You walked right by me and don’t bother having your inept security team check the camera monitors. I won’t be on them.** _

_I raised my eyebrow in a Spock like gesture and continued on to the next letter._ _**Benedict, your reign will come to an end soon. Listen to the Bard he knows. ‘** _ [ **_Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes._ ** ](http://www.azquotes.com/quote/1097521) **_’_ **

I grimaced. What sick person would do this to Ben? I wandered over to my team lead, letting him know I needed to study the contents of the letters. The police let me study the originals. I put on gloves and poured over them in fine detail. They were just typed on regular copy paper, noting special about the font either. I felt cheated that they hadn’t been written on parchment with ink and quill.

Next, we poured over Ben’s phone logs, nothing unusual there either. His phone hadn’t been hacked. I held the phone in my hand, then held it up close to my eyes—nothing stood out except the faint scent of Ben’s aftershave, which clung to its high glossed surface. My own reflection stared back at me.

“Hey, Anderson, are you planning on making a call or what? Get that phone back here.”

I nodded, then handed it over. “Hey, remember, you’re on trial here,” my team lead whispered,” take a break you’re acting strange.”

I walked outside, pacing around the parameters of our trailer like a caged animal.

“Making any progress?”

“Jesus, what the hell?” I yelped.

Ben grinned back at me. “Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

I opened my mouth to chastise him, then shut it when a stray beam of light shone on one of his auburn curls. _He looks like a beautiful angel. Whoa, Charlotte, stop, that’s creepy._

“Mr. Cumberbatch, you’re not to come out alone. The rules are in place for your safety.”

Ben glared at his bodyguard, then smiled. “Of course, but this is Charlotte, she’s part of my security detail, so it’s alright.”

The bodyguard frowned. “No, Mr. Cumberbatch it isn’t. Now, please get back inside.”

I spent the rest of my shift, pouring over security footage from the tea shop. Watching people shift in and out of the tea shop made me feel lonely and invisible. I studied their faces, some in a hurry, some smiling, some sad, some happy, some meeting another person and some getting a lone cup of tea. Then Ben stepped through the doors and I smiled. He lit up the room when he sauntered in. Not even his dour bodyguard could dampen Ben’s enthusiasm. I moved my fingers over the screen in a 360-degree pattern, looking for a crazed fan. No one fit the bill. The screen flickered.

“Shit,” I wore aloud.

My team lead came over. “What is it, Anderson?”

“The footage has been hacked.”

He sighed, “Well, the letter did warn us. I guess it’s time to scrutinize employees and any work that’s been done in the shop over the past few months. Go back a year if you have to.”

I nodded. It was going to be a long night.

My eyes ached by the time my shift ended. I collapsed on my bed and fell asleep. Macabre dreams made my attempt at rest futile. I woke up tired and unrefreshed. After a shower and a cup of tea and some cookies, I looked out the window. My view consisted of an alley with trash bins lined neatly in a row. I gazed at them, then attempted to recall the subliminal details of my nocturnal wanderings. Something important lingered there, just out of reach. What?

_You see but you do not observe.  Get out I need to go to my mind palace. Great, the only thoughts I can conjure up are quotes from Sherlock. Oh, yes here it comes. Anderson, don’t think out loud or you’ll lower the I.Q. of the whole street._ I gritted my teeth. _I’ve watched Sherlock way too many times to be considered normal._

I pugged in my earbuds and listened to the song Heathens. Its haunting melody did nothing to dispel the feeling that I’d forgotten something vital. _All my friends are heathens take it slow. Wait for them to ask you who you know. Please don’t make any sudden moves. You don’t know the half of the abuse…Welcome to the room of people who have rooms of people that they loved one day locked away…_

A clattering noise, from outside made me jump. I focused my eyes on the source. A group of boys ran through the alley, laughing, while they knocked the bins over. _Little shits._ I watched their retreating figures. _Heathens._ Then a smothering silence descended on the room and chill bumps rose on my arms. _An invisible army, hovering at our elbows…_


	4. Muted Aria

This case had me vexed. I made the coffee with extra fervor. Ben’s stalker was not the face of one but the face of many—the invisibles.

“Yo Anderson, get your head out of your arse and get on with making the jo.”

I looked at the speaker and grimaced. _Even with my head up my ass, I could see more than you—moron._ I forced my facial muscles to smile. “Yes sir, right away.” I ignored their laughter, continuing on with my task, focusing on the movement of my hands.

“Good morning, Charlotte.”

My headed snapped to attention. “Good morning…Mr. Cumberbatch.”

He winked. “It’s Ben to you.”

My hands shook, attempting to look cool, then yelping when my skin came into contact with the hot contents of my cup. “Damn.” That should have been the end of it, right? Dear god, it wasn’t. My foot became entangled on the edge of the table leg. I watched in horror when the coffee urn tottered, then fell to the ground in a metallic crash.

“Bloody hell, Anderson, can’t you even get coffee without cocking it up?”

Ben stepped forward. “Now see here it was just an accident.”

The team lead’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Cumberbatch, where is your personal bodyguard?”

Ben smiled. “He’s going to be displeased. I’ve ditched him.”

“Mr. Cumberbatch, how do expect us to keep you safe if you insist on breaking the rules?”

Ben’s expression sobered, “You’re quite right of course.” He bent down to help me.

The team lead stepped forward. “Mr. Cumberbatch, please this area hasn’t been secured.”

Ben stood up, fixing his bright eyes on me. “Hang in there, Charlotte.”

My throat felt raw and swollen. I nodded, looking down at the coffee that pooled around my knees.

After he left, the team lead rounded on me. “Get this cleaned up. Do you want me to petition the boss to have you removed from this job? Stay away from Mr. Cumberbatch.”

I looked up at him. “He came over to me.”

“Well, avoid him at all costs. I don’t care how bloody wet he makes your panties.”

_Oh my god, I want to die._

“Hey, Sommers, none of that talk. The last thing we need is another sexual harassment suit and bloody hell the man even makes my pants wet and I’m as straight as an arrow. Now quit bothering Anderson and get back to work, that is if you can walk straight.”

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, then glanced up at the head of our entire unit. “Anderson, let hospitality clean this up. Go and check in with analytics.”

I wobbled to my feet. “Yes, sir.” 

I checked in with analytics, then began to look through the employment records from the tea shop. Nothing stood out, so I started with the most recent hires. I spent hours watching surveillance footage of the employees, rubbing my fatigued eyes in frustration. _Wait hang on._ I ran back a section, then grinned. “I found something.” I shouted.

“Jesus, Anderson, what are you trying to do raise the bloody dead?”

I ignored, pointing to my screen. “Look.”

“I don’t see anything. Just a bloke kissing his girl.”

I magnified the picture. “Look, at her bag.”

He sighed. “What about it?”

“Read what it says.”

“Well, there’s a happy face and it says, Keep Calm and Get Sherlock.”

“One of the tea shop’s employees’ girlfriend is a Sherlock fan.”

He rubbed his chin. “Better call in the boss.”

_This is it. I’m going to get my recognition and potentially crack the case and keep Ben safe._

The boss came in and pointed out the findings to the boss. _Here it comes. Good work, Anderson._

“Good job, Simmons.”

_What?!_

I knew better than to yell at Simmons, while the boss stood there. After he left, I walked over to where Simmons sat, all smug-like. “I found that clue. How come you didn’t tell him?”

Simmons shrugged. “What does it matter? We’re a team, right?”

“I’ve been at this for almost twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours, really? Is sounds as if you need to knock off for the night. Good night, Anderson.”

I stared at him, imagined my hands his throat, then left without a word. Once outside, I sat down, pulled out my e-cig, then sighed. “Oh, hell, this calls for a real one.” My hands shook a little when I lit it, anticipating the mouth hit and the nicotine buzz. I inhaled. _Oh, hell that’s glorious. Too bad they kill._

I turned on my phone, checked my messages, then pushed my music app. The haunting sounds of Violetta’s aria, Addio Del Passato from La Traviata filled my earbuds. I closed my eyes, allowing the aria to wash over me. Like a desert traveler ready to release the genie from its lamp, I unplugged my earbuds from the phone. The music echoed around the empty courtyard. I smiled. _The notes are free._

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I jumped, then looked up at the speaker. There could be no mistaking those dulcet tones. There he stood— _Benedict, so beautiful, so kind, so generous, so unavailable._ I wanted to yell at him, to vent my anxiety, boredom, and loneliness, but my vexed spirit melted when his glowing eyes looked into mine. _My sorrow is my own. I won’t let him see._ “Yes, it is.” Then I plugged the earbud back into its slot, muting its beauty. _My sadness belongs to me._ “Goodnight, Mr. Cumberbatch.”

“Ben, remember?”

I didn’t contradict him, but didn’t call him Ben, afraid that his name would stumble through my cracked lips, like the crashing coffee pot. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Charlotte.”


	5. Tea Shop Snare

I looked through the two-way mirror and observed the interrogation. _London police sound so polite._ The officer could have been threatening to cut the suspect’s balls off, then to have him drawn and quartered before the Queen, yet his Colin Firth accent belayed the intensity of the questioning.

“Mr. Page, I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation. A threat has been made on a man’s life and your girl friend is our only lead.”

“Oh hell, she wasn’t my girlfriend. We went out a few times is all and call me Jimmy, my father is Mr. Page.”

The officer’s jaw tightened, then he slammed his hand down on the table. “I’m looking at your Identification and your name isn’t Jimmy bloody Page.”

Page folded his arms across his chest. “Fine, but Jimmy Page sounds a lot better than Jeremiah Page, doesn’t it?”

The officer rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, let’s compromise, shall we? I’ll call you Page.”

Page smiled. “Okay, right, it sounds fine by me.”

“Now, Page, tell us about your ex-girlfriend.”

“Oi, how many times do I have to tell you, she wasn’t my girlfriend. We went out a few times. She spread her legs for me without question. I’m not exactly Prince William, I took as much pussy as I could get. Wouldn’t you?” Page’s eyes narrowed. “Well, on second thought, maybe that wouldn’t appeal to you.”

The officer fingered his gun a moment or two, then turned to Page. “Page,” he spat out. “Since, it’s obvious that you don’t want to cooperate…”

Page held up his hand. “Okay, fine. Her name is Mary Hudson.”

“Jesus, are you fucking kidding me? Mary Hudson.”

Page scowled. “Like I said she let me bang her in the back room, against the tea bags. Anything I wanted she did it. I didn’t ask for her I.D. I could care less if she said her name was Queen Elizabeth.”

“How did you meet her?”

“She came into the tea shop one day and started flirting with me right away. I thought she was underage and wanted me to buy her booze. She laughed and asked what time I got off work. I told her and we went to a pub. She showed I.D. and was served, so I didn’t think nothing of it.”

“What did you talk about?”

“I don’t know, this and that, where’d you go to school and all that nonsense. We danced, then she wanted to go back to my place.”

“What happened then?”

“Oi, what do you think happened? She fucked my brains out. I fell asleep, and in the morning, she was gone. I thought that was the end of it, until I got a text from her asking if I wanted to go out after my shift. She met me at the shop a couple of times during my closing shift, wanting me to shag her in the supply room when customers weren’t around.”

The officer sighed.  “And you did?”

“Of course, over and over. A gentleman wants to please a lady, am I right?”

“Did she ever have accesses to your key to the shop, or the security cameras?”

Page looked thoughtful. “No, of course not.” Then his face paled.

“Yes, Mr. Page?”

“I’ll get into a heap of trouble. I’ll lose my job.”

“Page, you’re going to lose a lot more than that if you don’t level with me.”

“Okay, okay, one time she came into the shop, all dressed up like, long black coat, tight purple blouse, fish net stockings, and high heeled boots. She looked sexy as hell.”

“Tell me more about her clothing. Was she dressed in goth attire?”

Page shook his head. “Not exactly, like I said, she had a long black coat on and was wearing a funny hat.”

“What kind of hat?”

“Oi, I don’t know. A funny one like that famous detective, you know…Bloody hell, what’s his name? Oh, right, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Okay, so she was in cosplay? What happened next?”

Page blushed. “Do you have to know everything?”

“Just what pertains to the case.”

“Well, she sat around in the shop for a while, then told me to watch a BBC Sherlock episode on my dinner break.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah, I watched it.”

“What was the name of the episode?”

“I don’t know, it had some domintrax in it. Her name was Irene something or other. After I watched it, she wanted us to role play in the shop. After things slowed down a bit, she crawled up on the counter, pranced over and then she…turned off the security feeds.” Page then looked down at his hands. “Well, I’ve blown it, haven’t I? I never saw her again.”

The officer smirked. “We’ll need you to sit with a sketch artist to see if our Mary Hudson shows up on the radar. Somehow, I suspect she won’t. You’re free to go for now Mr. Page. Oh, and in future, try to think with the head above your shoulders.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watched Page slump out of the interrogation room, feeling sorry for him. He’d just wanted a bit of attention.

The officer joined us. _Like Alice we were on the other side—the dark side._ “Well, we’ll dust the cameras for prints, but I’m sure she was wearing gloves.”

My boss grimaced. “Indeed.” Then he shook the officer’s hand. “Thanks for working with us. We’ll keep each other informed.”

Once outside, my boss looked at me. “You’re awfully quiet. Was that talk a little rough for you?”

I glanced at the passing cars. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m convinced that we’re dealing with more than one person.”

“You got any evidence to back it up?”

I sighed. “No, it’s just a hunch.”

“You’ve got good instincts, but without proof, your hunches are just speculation. You get me, Anderson? Dig deeper.”

“Yes, sir. Do you think there’s a chance that I could question Page?”

“Umm, I’m not sure if Scotland Yard will go for that, but I’ll give a try.”

“Well, there’s one thing I know.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m never having tea in that shop.”


	6. Facade

I prowled around the set in a circle, feeling irritated and ill at ease. Sleep had eluded me and my night sweats had returned. I would be glad when this whole job ended. Ben caught my eye and I smiled. The smile didn’t reach my eyes and Ben knew. _He always knew. Don’t pity me, Ben. I don’t want to see those green eyes filled with sorrow._ I looked up and made a quick detour. _Shit here comes Simmons._

Though I made my escape, I still caught has parting shot. “What’s the matter, Anderson? Still looking for Mr. Cumberbatch’s enemies, or groups of deranged fans. Look in the mirror, Anderson, maybe it’s you.”

I shivered, then looked around. _Is that what everyone thinks, that I am somehow involved? What if they think it’s me? What if I lose my job and can’t prove my innocence? How will I pay my bills?_ _I won’t be able to find work. What if I go to jail? In England, it’s guilty until proven innocent, right? What are prisons like here? Do they still lock people away in the tower of London?_ Round and round my thoughts ran amuck throughout the day, torturing me. A chair scraped the ground and I skittered away from the sound, my shoes clattering on the cobblestones like a horse driven wild by fear. _For Christ’s sake, Charlotte, get a grip._ I signed out for my break, then found someplace quiet. _Away from the maddening crowd._

I plopped down on a bench, then lay back, staring at the grey sky. The general consensus was that Ben’s crazy stalker had been scared off when Page had been pulled in for questioning, but I wasn’t convinced. _Thank god, shooting wrapped up today._ Ben and the others would have a press conference, then it would all be over. I had some personal time built up. Maybe I would go on vacation. I shuddered at the thought of being alone with my thoughts.

“Ten Dollars for your thoughts.”

I smiled. “So, how much would a penny be worth?”

Ben laughed. “One word and it has to be a good one.”

I crinkled my nose, losing myself in the game. “Just one word?”

He looked back at me. “Only one word.”

“Will I be punished if I say two words?” As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. _Oh shit, it sounds like I’m flirting._

He looked down at my flushed face, then sat down beside me, not saying a word.

_Why isn’t he talking? Say something. Phone ring please._ I glanced sideways at him. His hands stayed clasped, fingers entwined together, his gold wedding band gleaming through the muted daylight. Then someone motioned him towards the set.

_Oh, thank the gods, I’m saved._

He stood up. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

I nodded, watching him. He gave me a small wave, then walked away.

_Hey, wait. I ‘ve got a word—invisible—stupid—shit. Okay, so my word for the day is shit._

I pulled out a cheese stick from my pocket, nibbling on it, afraid I would choke when the dryness of it touched my dry, swollen throat. Disgusted with myself, I pinched it into little bits, throwing it to a small group of sparrows. They chittered around, in excitement, pecking and fighting at their unexpected treasure. I smiled. _Maybe, my word should be unexpected._

Once back on the set I looked around. The walls that looked like something from a gothic Victorian mansion, were just slabs of drywall, created to fool the viewer. Bricks, were paint, not stone, wallpaper a graphic print out, not silken threads— all fake, all a sham. I would leave the set and Ben behind. Tonight, I would stand guard, while flashbulbs lit up the actors’ smiling faces, their eyes never revealing what lay behind each blank expression.

Several hours later I stood scanning the crowd. Some of the reporters and guests had been cleared, yet we remained on alert. Ben stood up and spoke about the upcoming film, his silken toned voice hypnotizing the crowd.

I squinted, attempting to avoid spotlight blindness. _Damn, didn’t anyone talk to the crew? There’s supposed to be a dimmed perimeter, so we can see._ As if they heard my thoughts, the lights dimmed in submission. _That’s more like it._ I then looked at the faces I had memorized. Most were still right where I had seen them last, demonstrating the law of inertia at its best. I blinked. _Wait, everything is not as I remember. Who is that?_ I stared at a young woman, whom I’d not noticed before. Dark curls framed her perfect oval face and she observed Ben—enraptured. I smiled. _I can’t blame her. He, looks gorgeous in his Armani suit, telling all of us about his character in the upcoming film._

I relaxed. _Everything’s going to be okay._ I glanced over at the woman again, noting the way she leaned her head back, her fingers trailing down her body in erotic swirls. _She looks like she’s going to get off in front of the whole crowd. Jesus, enough is enough._ Then her head snapped forward. My shoulders tightened in response. Her cupid-like expression hardened in determination. _Therefore, is cupid’s arrow painted blind._

I tapped my ear piece. “Can anyone hear me? There’s something wrong.” A burst of static whined back at me, making me gasp. I tore out the ear piece and ran for the stage, shouting, “Get down.”

I dove in front of Ben, surprising his private body guard, then something metal impaled itself into my chest and I sank to the ground. _Oh god, Sherlock was right. It’s the landing that’s going to kill me._   _Screaming, I hear screaming. Is it me? Where’s Ben, is he okay?_

I looked up, just in time to see him whisked away. He didn’t come back for me, shouting. “Somebody help me, save my bodyguard.” _Oh god, I’m going to bleed out alone._

“Anderson, stay with me. Come on, goddammit, Charlotte come on…”

The voice faded away, sirens wailed in the distance. I looked down, then began to shake. _Jesus, the bitch shot we with an arrow. Oh god, it hurts and I’m so cold._ My eyes began to close, willing my shocked body into submission.

Then I heard the pop, of a weapon being discharged and dark cupid fell to the ground. I looked into her eyes, then she smiled. _She’s happy not to be invisible._ My legs shook and darkness engulfed me.

I wish I could say I heard a choir of angels, saw a bright light, a tunnel, my grandma or my cat nubbins, but the truth is I saw nothing until the time I opened my eyes, and found myself in a hospital room.

I can’t describe the pain I felt. Labels like hero just don’t matter when you’ve been injured. No one tells of the nightmares that follow. Still I lived through it and that is something, but more important than my own survival is the fact that I got the opportunity to save someone I cared about—Ben.

I looked around. Flowers filled the room. _God, the stench is overwhelming._ A nurse came in just as I sneezed.

She smiled, bringing in yet another vase of flowers. “Here’s another one.”

I returned her smile. This whole shit storm wasn’t her fault and it seemed a shame to piss on her day. “Who’s this one from?”

Her smile faded, replaced by a look of wonder. “Ooh, it’s from the Batch.”

I laughed, trying to keep her from detecting the slight tremor in my voice. “Let’s see it.”

She handed me the card and I read it, pouring over every word as if it were sacred texts from the holy bible. **Dearest Charlotte, words cannot express what you’ve done. Thanks to you I will get to experience life to its fullest, living to see my children grown. Love Always, Ben.**

The nurse cleared her throat, no doubt disappointed that I didn’t read it aloud. “I need to change your morphine drip now.”

I looked at her, feeling certain that my dry eyes were bloodshot. “Sure, whatever.”

She changed the bag. “Nice note?”

I sighed, deciding to give her a break and read the note aloud.

“ **Love always, Ben.** Well, at least you’ll have something pleasant to remember from the horrid experience.”

I nodded, not having the nerve to tell her that the note wasn’t his handwriting. Then I closed my eyes, waiting for the drugs to kick in.


	7. Security

I’d been home from the hospital a few days, waiting. Waiting for what? I wanted to get back to work, forgetting the events that led to the stiches below my collarbone. Soon it would be time to change my bandage. I dreaded peeling the tape off. _Non-stick my ass. It hurt like a son of a bitch every time I had to peel it off._

A knock at the door distracted me from my grim task. “What?” I growled.

My flat mate’s muffled voice echoed back at me. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Tell them to go away.”

“I think you’re going to want to see this one.”

I jerked open the door. “I don’t care if it’s the frigging Queen, tell whoever it is to piss off.”

My roommate laughed. “You don’t care about the Queen?”

“To quote Whoopi Goldberg, ‘I don’t give a shit about the Queen.’.”

“Jumpin Jack Flash, a great flick.”

_Oh shit, I’d know that voice anywhere._

Benedict stood before me smirking, trying not to laugh. “I’ll give your regards to the Queen, next time I see her.”

I started laughing, then winced. “I’m sorry, come on in.”

Benedict edged into the room, making my tiny studio flat seem ever more so. I looked around in a panic, glancing around for a place to sit. “I’m sorry. The place is a mess.” I pulled up a plastic lawn chair, removing the pajama top, that draped over the back, one sleeve extending to the floor.

Benedict sat down and to his credit didn’t dust off the seat. He looked up at me smiled, then held out a to go hot cup. “I brought you some tea.”

I reached out to take it, then stopped when my stiches pulled. Benedict jumped up and came to my side. “Here let me help you.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I’ll just take it with my left hand.” Feeling, like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole, I took the cup and sat down on the edge of my bed. We sat facing each other in silence, the vapors from the tea, leaving beads of humidity on my upper lip. “Oh, thank you for the flowers.”

Benedict looked down, then back up at me. “I had my assistant send them.”

I studied him a moment or two. _He seems nervous, but that can’t be right._

“However, I felt… I mean… I wanted to. I’m at a loss for words. How can I ever thank you?”

_Hmm, I’m sure I could think of something._ “It’s fine. It’s my job to protect the client. I mean you’re more than a client. I think of you as an acquaintance, or maybe you know a friend. I mean…” My phone dinged, saving me from further embarrassment.

“Do you need to get that?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s just a reminder. It’s time to change my bandage. I need to get my roommate.”

“Oh, he left.” Benedict said, then gestured towards the door. “Maybe I can still catch him?”

“No, don’t bother. He’s long gone. I can manage.” I wandered towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” I called out over my shoulder. The bandage came off with minimal effort. I washed off the area. _I look like something from a Tim Burton movie._ I started humming Sally’s Song, then stopped when I thought about the lyrics. _And will we end up together? No, I think not, it’s never to become, for I am not the one._ My hands shook. I swore.

“Charlotte, I’ve taken first aid. Here, let me help you.” Without a word, he took out a pair of gloves from a box on the sink, grabbed one of the bandages, then put some tape around it. “Is this okay?”

I nodded, then took a deep breath, when he touched me with his gloved fingers. A small bit of latex-free material, the only barrier preventing from me feeling his skin against mine. _Charlotte, get a frigging grip._

“Charlotte, god that thing looks wretched. I can’t bring myself to say your wound. I’m so sorry. I’m going to put the bandage on now. Am I pressing too hard?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine, thanks.”

I cleared my throat. “Shall we withdraw to the parlor?”

Benedict bowed. “After you my lady.”

I watched him sit down once more in the plastic chair.

“Sorry, I haven’t gotten around to buying suitable furniture.”

He sniffed. “Nonsense, this chair is quite lovely. Why I saw the same one at the palace, it’s the Queen’s favorite.”

“Stop, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

His expression sobered. “Charlotte, I can’t thank you enough. Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you?”

A wicked thought crept into my mind. “Well, there is one thing?”

Benedict sat forward. “Anything.”

“Make sure there’s a Sherlock Season 5 before I’m 40.”

He laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

The room became engulfed in silence. “So, how’s your family?”

Benedict’s expression brightened and he held out his phone.

_Oh great, now I get to look at photos._ I swiped through a gallery of perfection, two children, beautiful wife, lovely grounds. _He looks happy. I’m glad, a bit jealous, but glad for him._ “They’re all wonderful.”

“And it’s thanks to you that I get to enjoy them. You should come visit sometime.”

_Seriously? Like I want to see the opposite of my life staring me down. Stop it, Charlotte. He took time out of his busy schedule to thank you._

“My schedule’s pretty hectic. I’m not sure where I’m going next,” I replied, handing him back the phone.

“Well, I’ve got a lot of projects in the fire as well.”

I sipped on my tea, not sure of what to say. “My tea’s gotten cold. I’m going to nuke it. Do you want me to heat yours as well?”

He gave me a look of mock outrage. “No, not the microwave.”

I laughed. “Sorry, I forgot you’re a purist.”

We both listened to the hum of the microwave, while its contents went around and around. When it beeped, I jumped, then wrenched open the door, slamming it shut.

“Do you get some time off before you go to another project?” I asked him.

He nodded. “We need to get away. How about you? Any vacation plans?”

_Plans? Where would I go? What would I do?_ I shook my head. “No, I need to get back to work.”

“I understand. Well, I have to finish tea and go. I’ve got another engagement.”

“With the Queen?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”  He stepped forward, taking my hands in his, then bent down and kissed my cheek.

I studied my feet. _Dare I look up?_ I met his eyes. I didn’t look away.

He traced my jaw with his index finger. “Good-bye, Charlotte.”

Unable to speak, I nodded. In a trance-like state, I watched him throw his cup away in the trash bin. He turned his back to me, paused at the door, then without a backwards glance left.

I ran to the window. He looked back at me making a silly face. The whooshing of traffic sounded like ocean waves. He smiled, then his expression intensified. I swallowed. _It feels as if the entire world has stopped, allowing me this moment._

He stood there so long, I felt he had forgotten something. I went to the front door and opened it. He ran up to me, enveloping me in a hug. I couldn’t hold it together. Tears flowed down my cheeks and I buried my face in the wool of his jacket. After a few moments, he released me, holding me at arm’s length. His eyes were moist and he blinked several times, then he smiled—a smile that could make a battleship sink.

When he spoke his voice rasped, “Charlotte, I’d almost forgot. I have something for you.”

I shivered, realizing how cold it was. He unlocked his car door and handed me a black jacket. “Here you look cold.”

I took the jacket, looking at in confusion. Benedict looked back at me smiled, waved got into his car and left. The engine roared to life and in a second the car became a tiny speck. I inspected the jacket, then smiled. On the inside it read: Mr. Cumberbatch’s Security jacket, The Great Game.” I read the note pinned below it. **Charlotte, wear this in good health. Sherlock and I both want you to have it.**

I smiled, then slipped the jacket on, snuggling into its warm folds.


End file.
